Restored
by stalrua
Summary: "Jane stood alone in the night and shouted to the heavens at the top of her lungs, and the way the stars flickered when the sky swallowed his name was almost beautiful. It was funny, in an ironic sort of way, to think how she'd once waited for Thor as she now waited for Loki." Life is never simple, and sometimes love can be the hardest thing to recognize. A sequel to "Drowning."


A/N: This is a sequel to "Drowning" and will make more sense if you read the other part first. Loki is a little more forthcoming in this second part but still not very outgoing, so if you're wanting an overly playful God of Mischief, you'll have to look elsewhere.

Update: There is now a prequel title "Fallen" and a companion piece titled "Of The Feline Persuasion" so go check those out as well!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Marvel Comics or any of its creations. I can only appreciate the characters they've given us to work with.

* * *

><p><strong>Restored<strong>

"_You will burn and you will burn out. You will be healed and come back again."_

* * *

><p>Jane Foster had never imagined her life to turn out quite the way it had.<p>

Then again, how many children expect to discover realms beyond their own? Or see automatons? Or meet gods? Or perform research work for an underground espionage and law-enforcement agency? Or share their home with the official God of Mischief?

The list of things that made her life decidedly not-normal was extensive. When most people were worrying about their husband working late or their children passing classes, Jane worried whether or not someone would pick up on the fact that the man she was shopping for clothes with – while Asgardian clothing was undoubtedly elegant, he'd needed _something_ more suited to her planet – was actually from another world.

Even still, it was her life, something she wouldn't trade for anything. Things had settled down to something that could only be described as good, or as good as life could ever be. Not to say reaching that point had been easy. In the end, though, if she could go back and do it all over again…

She'd still spend those three days with Thor.

She'd still wait for three years with only a promise to hold on to.

She'd still move to Washington to start anew.

She'd still invite Loki into her home that rainy night.

She'd still willingly spend three and a half years with him.

Or longer, if she could.

Most of the time, she'd stop herself right there. It was dangerous, thinking about him like that. Then again, everything about him was dangerous. From the way he looked at her to the way he carried himself to the magic that flowed in his very being… he could make her heart race with a single glance or cease its beating with a jolt of magic.

The ocean had always reminded her of him.

But really, maybe it was more that he _was_ the ocean.

Like the ocean, his existence was constantly flowing and never-ending and immeasurable; hers, on the other hand, was a flame, burning fiercely and wildly erratic and ending quickly. He would remain a part of the cosmos long after she'd passed beyond all memory. The span of their lives was too discordant to even contemplate, as incompatible as water and fire.

So yes, most of the time, she refused to let herself think of a future in which he was a permanent figure.

But sometimes she'd let herself consider it.

* * *

><p>March<p>

The plane shuddered and dipped slightly with the turbulence, and Jane automatically sucked in a harsh breath and grasped for the armrests on either side of her seat. On one side, she felt the smooth surface and buttons she'd expected; on the other side, she found the surface already occupied by Loki's arm and clutched his wrist instead.

"Nervous?"

Her eyes shot to him as she removed her fingers from their death grip around his wrist. It was his first time flying – at least, in an airplane – so his calm demeanor compared to her agitated one was frustrating, to say the least. Stubbornly, she ignored the slight smirk that could be seen even though she was looking at him in profile and peeked out into the darkness outside the window.

"Statistically, the chances of dying in a plane crash are far less than if you were in a car accident. I think the odds are something like one in twenty-nine million. Or was it thirty? Anyway, there were thirty-four thousand deaths related to car accidents last year. That's ninety-three deaths each day, which is kind of crazy to think about. Did you know that there are only twelve fatalities per million flight hours?"

"You are nervous."

Indignant, she abandoned her inspection of the ground far below them and turned to Loki again. "What? I never said I was nervous."

"You are rambling and quoting statistics, Jane." His expression, combined with the arched eyebrow, spoke of his skepticism.

"Right."

Jane wasn't afraid of flying, per se. It just… wasn't her favorite thing. When Thor had flown her to the site of the Bi-Frost Bridge, she'd been safely nestled against his body; she had no doubt that, even if she fell, he'd catch her. In an airplane, she was completely subject to the skill of the pilot and the integrity of the craft. There was no way to ensure her survival when falling however many thousands of feet it was to the ground.

"There is no need to be concerned. I am not immortal, but it would take more than a plane crash to kill me."

A quick glance around confirmed that most of their neighboring passengers were asleep. They were talking quietly, but she figured it wouldn't go over well for people to hear him talking about being immortal or invincible or indestructible or whatever he was. She wondered what would be easier – convincing people that he was a god or that he was crazy. Probably crazy, although she doubted Loki would appreciate that.

The plane rocked again with another bout of turbulence, and Jane gritted her teeth until they had steadied out again before answering. "Well, that's great for you, but I happen to excel at dying. It's pretty much a guaranteed thing for me. If we crashed, I'd most likely be crushed…" A dramatic vision of the plane exploding into flames crossed her mind. "Or incinerated."

"Then be thankful that I am around to prevent your demise should we crash."

What?

She turned to him, her neck almost cracking with how fast she snapped her head around. "You would save me?" He continued to stare forward, but his refusal to acknowledge the question did little to throw her. Hiding a grin that tried to steal across her face, she casually leaned her head back against the seat. "I guess flying isn't all that bad."

The silence continued for a moment. A sideways glance revealed a small furrow between his brows, and she wondered if his disquiet had anything to do with him admitting he wouldn't let her die. But then the slight frown disappeared, and he fingered the small cup of wine on the tray above his lap. "Yes, there are free drinks."

She smiled knowingly at his attempt at diversion and decided to go with it. "And snacks." The plastic crackled noisily when she waved the items in his direction. "Do you want peanuts or pretzels?"

* * *

><p>June<p>

"She scratched me."

"Yes, well, she's a cat. That's a pretty normal response when they get wet."

Jane watched as he looked from the drop of blood that welled from the thin, red line on the back of his hand to the cat he still held in the shallow water. With the water smoothing flat her black and white fur, the cat looked about half the size she usually did and twice as pathetic.

"She scratched me." Insistently, he repeated the phrase as though he really was shocked by the way the animal had vengefully reached out to claw him.

"Have you ever noticed how many scratches I get when I bathe her?" Jane plopped the bottle of pet shampoo in his 'injured' hand. The fact that the wound had already disappeared did not escape her notice. "Don't forget to wash the underside of her neck and around her ears."

Leaving him to it, Jane rose to locate a towel, knees cracking after being bent and pressed into the tile beside the bathtub for too long. When she returned, she found the water drained and Loki waiting with a dripping feline. Wrapping the towel around their pet until only her face showed – by that point, she looked more like an Eskimo than a cat – Jane set the bundle back in his arms.

"Why did you want me to help, again?"

Letting the second towel fall to the floor, she pushed it around with her foot, mopping up the water that had splashed out. "If you want me to keep taking care of your cat, the least you can do is help once in a while."

"And when did she become my cat? Last I recall, _we_ adopted her."

"She became yours when she decided to like you significantly more than me." However, if Jane didn't know better, she could swear the feline's green eyes were narrowed in a glare of betrayal at Loki. He'd never helped when it was time to give baths or medicine but was always there to soothe her in the aftermath which was probably why he was the favorite.

"If you wouldn't have stopped me from using magic to clean her, she would have never had a reason to distrust you."

The way the animal's expression lightened, along with how the fur on the top of her head looked just a little too fluffy, made Jane think he was using magic right then to simultaneously dry the offended cat and earn back her favor.

Sneaky bastard.

A few more swipes soaked up the rest of the water. Then, she tossed the towel into the hamper and turned to Loki with crossed arms. With the floor no longer a slipping hazard, he pushed off the wall to approach her.

"She likes you, Jane."

They stood close, both staring down at the bundle while the cat's eyes switched back and forth repeatedly from Loki to Jane. "Maybe…" When her eyes ended up settling fondly on Loki, though, Jane snorted. "But she'll always like you better."

"I always did insist that she was an intelligent animal."

"Ugh… shut up." And with a smirk playing at his mouth, he turned and sauntered towards the door.

* * *

><p>October<p>

Jane watched the last of the trick-or-treaters clamber back into the car before turning out the porch light and locking the door for the night. Gathering up the empty candy bags scattered around the foyer and the bowl that now only contained a couple pieces of chocolate – it'd be a lie if she said she was forced into keeping them – she made her way into the kitchen. She was filling a glass with water and had just popped one of the remaining Tootsie Rolls in her mouth when she heard him.

"Those children… some were dressed like him."

Her eyes closed, squeezed tightly together at the pang of sorrow that shot through her. From his position in the living room, she had hoped he wouldn't notice the occasional piece of silver plastic armor, the red capes, or the familiar winged helmets. Every time they'd appeared, she'd glanced his way only to find him seemingly absorbed in whatever show he was watching. Apparently, he was a good actor.

Turning off the tap, she slowly turned to find him in the doorway, shoulder braced against the frame. He didn't say anything else, didn't move, didn't meet her eyes.

"They've been doing that for many years now."

"Even though he hasn't been seen in nearly a decade?"

"Earth considered Thor an idol after everything that happened in New Mexico. They'll probably hold on to that image of him forever."

Thor had been painted the hero, which made the Destroyer – and by extension, Loki – the villain. To this day, Jane still didn't know the full history between the two men; she doubted she ever would. But even without knowing, she couldn't fully picture Loki as a villain. There was an inherent wickedness to everyone, but it had to be brought out because she truly believed that evil wasn't born, it was made. Something had to have happened… that was the only logical explanation for why countless years of companionship were thrown aside, how lifelong brothers could turn to enemies.

"He always was the hero."

There was a bitter quality to his voice she wasn't used to hearing. "What happened between you two?"

The grandfather clock in the living room tolled, the peals curling around Loki's form to reach her ears. At the sound, his head lifted slightly, and she watched his eyes drift to the digital clock of the microwave.

"It was… time. Too much of it spent boasting and bragging and reveling in glory or following and wishing and envying. Too much of it spent in the sun or in the shadows. Too much of it spent seeking respect and attention, honor and approval. Time tore us apart as it tears everything apart."

It was fairly clear which statements applied to Thor versus Loki. Some of them, though… she wasn't exactly sure. Then again, maybe they weren't really separate at all; maybe all of the statements applied, in at least some way, to the two brothers equally.

Jane looked away from Loki then. Studying the still-full glass of water in her hands, she watched as condensation beaded on the exterior and caught on the edges of her fingers. He was right. Given enough of it, time often tore things apart. But while it could destroy…

"Time can also heal."

Her words came out softly. And even though the room separated them, she felt more than heard his sigh. As if he were standing right in front of her, she felt his breath ghost over her skin like rime dusted the ground, the sense of longing within it almost palpable.

"I saw him in the moments before he died, when the entirety of Skadi's wrath fell upon Asgard." At his words, Jane straightened. She set the glass down and unhurriedly moved towards him while he spoke. "The giants arrived on their winter hounds, monsters riding upon monsters, and fought with swords and spears of ice. Frost and snow covered the realm, only held at bay from the heart of the city with great fires. I couldn't see beyond my prison, but I could hear the screams." His words painted a picture so vivid that Jane could almost see the Jotuns' shadows, could almost smell the piercing tang of fire and ice, could almost hear the echo of war. "It was in a small reprieve that Thor came to me."

"Is that when he sent you away?"

"Yes."

The entirety of the kitchen was open behind her, but there was little space between the two of them at that point. His head was lowered again, but it only gave her a better view of his face. His eyes, however, refused to meet hers. "Did you talk first? At all?"

"Yes." The silence was heavy as she waited for him to continue. "His last words to me were…" Loki swallowed hard around a harsh breath. "He told me to live well."

It was so very much like Thor. Always so positive; he'd forever been the optimist, so… believing of the good in everyone. To the end, he had continued to have faith that the brother he'd grown up with was not completely lost.

"I'm not always sure that I've honored his last wish."

"I think you have."

It wasn't often that Loki spoke to her harshly, but at her words, his eyes flicked to hers and a sneer curled his lip. "It is impossible for you to understand all the things I have done. There is blood on my hands, blood that cannot just be washed away. I am not a good man."

She considered his words and thought about the few things she knew of his past. Lies, envy, murder, betrayal. No, he wasn't exactly a good man, but he wasn't a bad man, either. At one time, he may have been… but not anymore.

"That's just it, Loki. The things you did, the blood you say is on your hands… they're all in the past. Thor had already forgiven you for those things when he spoke to you. All he wanted was for you to live well going forward."

"Jane…"

"No…" It was probably the first time she'd ever cut him off. "I may just be a simple human without thousands of years of experience at getting to know the truth of people, but I believe that the heart of you is good." She watched the play of emotions across his face. "And if Thor could see you now, I think he'd be proud."

Loki turned his head to the side at her words, eyes trained on some distant point. Tension ran through the line of his jaw, pulled at the ligaments in his neck. His hands tightened, clenching at his side. He was like a coil, tightly wound and brimming with an energy – _magic_, her mind whispered – that was so tangible she could almost taste it in the air.

Without thinking, she reached out. The touch of her fingers on his forearm seemed to draw him from his thoughts, and when he finally looked at her, the shadows in his eyes stretched out, wound around her, and pulled her in. For a moment, she was frozen; trapped, ensnared, drowning in the darkness of it all. But then she closed the space between them. Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his.

With that contact, Loki found his relief.

His mouth slanted firmly over hers, hands coming up to tangle in her hair. There was the slight pressure of his body against hers, the sensation of moving, and then she was being pressed against the wall. Caught between the planes of his body and the immovable wall, she could do nothing but feel… feel the lean contours of him, the desperate way he leaned into her, the nearly frantic way he sought her lips with his own. Her hands held him close, grasping his shoulders and raking his back while his roamed, flowing down her sides and seeking out those dark and hidden places.

And later – in the dimness of the bedroom, in the mess of sheets, in the panting aftermath – she drew back to see that the shadows from earlier had slipped away again, back into hiding; never completely gone, but no longer cast over him.

And while Jane looked up at him, Loki stared down at her – a little shaken, a little lost – a man constantly working to find his way out of the darkness and back to the light.

* * *

><p>April<p>

Jane pulled and tugged at the lid on the jar of pasta sauce, working at it until her arms hurt with the strain. She'd tried everything. Running it under warm water, jabbing a butter knife under the edge, tapping it against the countertop… nothing. The jar was impenetrable.

With a frustrated growl, she glared at the offending item. Then, a splash of dark fabric caught her eye, and she looked up to see Loki watching her with arms crossed and an amused expression on his face.

"Hey. Good day making mischief?"

Over all their time together, she'd never really pried into what he did while he was gone. She knew he worked on rebuilding the bridges between the realms that had been ruined in the war between Asgard and Jotunheim, but that was about it. There was never any telling where he physically went, what went into repairing the paths, or how long he'd be gone. It never worried her too much, though, because he always came back.

But he'd been gone a lot lately; more than usual. For the past week, he'd leave early and return late, and while he never appeared frustrated or upset, there was no denying the intense concentration that had overtaken him.

"I do not make mischief."

Jane snorted. "Right. That's why all of my bath towels just happened to disappear last night between when I got in the shower and when I got out."

"That was not mischief. That was… convenience."

He looked very unassuming, and it was easy to see how he'd received his titles. The God of Mischief played the pranks while the God of Lies covered the tracks. And if anyone started to catch on to him, Loki Silver-Tongue redirected their focus elsewhere. It was a recipe for disaster; he was made for playing tricks.

"It was convenient for me to drip water all over the floor while I looked for the towels?"

"No, it was convenient for me to watch you do so unclothed."

Maintaining a straight face was hopeless, so Jane just smiled and shook her head in exasperation. "You're probably out playing pranks on the unsuspecting population of Earth every day. Good thing I don't watch the news very often. I'm sure if I did, I'd see you getting into all sorts of trouble."

She thought of Loki messing with traffic lights in cities across America or disrupting temple services in Bangladesh or appearing in a burst of magic in the middle of an isolated tribe of people in New Guinea to inspire them to worship him as a god. Then she promptly decided not to think about it.

"I'm probably harboring a wanted fugitive."

He approached her while she went back to messing with the jar. "You know I am not causing trouble."

Focused on the task at hand, she was only halfway listening. "I know you're not… freaking thing… I was just joking." Why did they have to make it so difficult? Teeth gritted, she twisted the lid only for nothing to happen. "Son of a…" The damn thing refused to budge.

"Honestly, woman. Give me that."

She glanced at his proffered hand. "You think you can get it?"

He gave her a disparaging look, clearly questioning her sanity in doubting his abilities. With a sigh, she reluctantly handed over the stubborn item. Holding it tightly, he sent one more look her way, gave the lid a sharp twist, and…

The jar shattered.

It was so unexpected that she could only blink stupidly at the scene before her. A puddle of sauce pooled on the floor while the rest of it was splattered between the cabinets, countertops, and Jane and Loki's clothes. A glob dripped from her arm to land on the floor with an amusing _plop_. And when she looked up, she couldn't help but laugh at the look of astonishment on his face.

At the noise, his eyes shot to hers, face instantly easing into its typical evenness. Still laughing, she unrolled a handful of paper towels and began to wipe up the mess, not even caring that sauce and glass was literally everywhere because the whole situation was just too funny.

Her snickering began again when she noticed that – even though the rest of the jar had shattered – he ironically still held the lid. "Well, I suppose that's one way to open it." Plucking it from his hand, she casually examined it for a moment before tossing it in the garbage. "If you could, you know, reign in your god-like power when opening spaghetti sauce in the future… that'd be great."

"Duly noted."

She followed his gaze to the bowl of plain noodles that still sat on the counter. "Don't worry; I have another jar of sauce in the pantry."

"Should I open it for you?"

"Do you think you can do it without making a mess?"

"Jane."

"I was just wondering."

"Jane…"

"Is that glass stuck in your hand?"

* * *

><p>May<p>

Shuffling the mess of papers scattered across the keyboard into some semblance of order, Jane typed a few more comments into the document before clicking print. As the printer churned and clicked, spitting out page after page, her eyes drifted to the far side of the room. Loki stood at the patio door watching the downpour outside. With his back straight, head high, legs spread, and hands clasped behind his back, he would've made an imposing figure were it not for the black and white mess of fur twining itself through his legs.

She owed this impressively thick stack of papers to him.

It was only with his help that she was able to finish up some of the research she'd been doing for S.H.I.E.L.D. on inter-realm travel. Having never experienced it herself, she was dependent on Loki's explanations of what it took and how it felt to pass through the cosmos and come out on the other side.

With the document complete, all that remained was to send it off to Nick Fury. She punched holes, bound the sheaf of papers with binder rings, shoved it in a mailing folder, and started writing out the mailing address.

"I've repaired one of the paths."

The pen left a tiny squiggle when her hand jerked at the words. With the tip still pressed to the surface of the folder, she watched as the ink bled out to create an ever-growing mark.

"Oh?"

"The bridge to Asgard." Her cognitive functions were stuck in the mud of his words, refusing to work. Her body felt equally sluggish as she laid the pen down and pushed the chair away from the desk to look at him fully. "With one complete, it would not take much to rebuild those to the other realms as well."

"That's…" Unanticipated; marginally frightening; not quite what she wanted to hear. "Good."

Silence swelled in the room, thick and heavy. It wasn't like she hadn't considered it. After spending years trying to repair it, it was only a matter of time before he succeeded. Still, there was a spreading anxiety in her chest. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't…

She refocused on Loki to find him staring at her.

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I asked if you were alright."

Scrambling madly, she struggled to find something to say. "Yes, I was just wondering if… um… others can use the path as well, then?" It was a good save and an equally good question.

"Yes; if they are aware of its existence."

But no one was aware of its existence aside from the two of them. Still recovering from the shock, her body protested when she stood. Never breaking the eye contact, she moved to stand beside him with slow, precise steps.

"Have you tested it?"

"Not yet."

"Will you test it?"

_Will you go?_

But he didn't answer. Instead, he issued a deep sigh and pulled her into an embrace, tearing her away from the sea of jade that was his eyes.

_Will you leave?_

Between the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the hand tangled comfortingly in her hair, and the firm feel of his back under her fingertips, she could almost forget. Almost… but not quite.

_Will you leave me?_

* * *

><p>June<p>

She traced the patterns of his skin, the lines of lean muscle. Fingers moved over his arm, across his torso, and down to his stomach. If she closed her eyes, she could almost visualize the sapphire skin covered in bold, flowing lines; she could almost picture his crimson gaze.

He'd explained to her the truth of him once.

In a moment of complete and utter vulnerability, he had revealed himself to be a Jotun, a frost giant, a monster.

But he wasn't a monster and she'd told him so.

His skin was cool beneath her cheek, and she could feel how the muscles of his shoulder tensed and rolled near her temple as his fingers stroked her back. It was in moments like these – the late hours, the dark and quiet of the night – when she felt closest to him.

Shifting slightly, she moved closer, tucking her body to his side until it was hard to tell where he ended and she began. She regarded the strong line of his jaw as he stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom.

"I used to hear stories of fellow Asgardians that had fallen victim to the wiles of Midgardian women. It seemed so senseless, so… impractical to give up anything for only a few years of pleasure. I would laugh at them; Thor, the Lady Sif, the Warriors Three… we all scoffed at them."

His words were maps through his bones and skin to the way he'd felt, to the man he'd once been.

Jane remembered the disdain he'd shown in the first couple years, the way he'd mocked her people and thought them inferior. She used to think that the sentiment was only his, but perhaps it was something shared by the majority of those in Asgard.

"Such is the travesty of gods, to think that we are invincible to nature's most irresistible creation."

"Humans?"

"No…" He rolled, then, turning to face her. "Weakness, in whatever form it may present itself."

There was a brief moment where he captured her lips in a searing kiss, and then he was burying his face against her neck. Still reeling from his actions, she only barely heard it. A whisper… the words were something foreign and exotic and wild that she couldn't understand. She felt the movement of his lips against her neck as he spoke, felt the words dance across her skin.

"What was that?"

"Ancient Asgardian." Her hair moved with the force of his exhale. "Even in the Realm Eternal, few speak it anymore."

"What does it mean?"

Pulling away, his eyes roved across her face, drinking her in, before he met her own. He gazed at her with an expression that settled somewhere between mild consternation and wonderment, as if she were both a killer and a savior, death and life. Fingers dusted across her jaw, her neck, her shoulder.

"That you will be the ruin of me."

* * *

><p>July<p>

The sky extended above her into an infinity of stars and suns and moons and planets, the pinpricks of light shining like diamonds scattered throughout the vast void. With a universe as large and unexplored as theirs, it was difficult to imagine that, somewhere beyond the edges of space and time, lay other realms. There were nine of them that had been discovered. Places of wonder, where all manner of beings – dwarves and frost giants, elves and gods – resided.

Earth's eyes had been opened considerably over the past decade, what with the arrival of various enemies and the emergence of people and beings that were now called 'superheroes.' However, the majority of the populace still didn't even know that other realms existed. They still believed that the world's alien foes came from the depths of space, not from other realms entirely.

Sometimes, she wished she was ignorant to that knowledge as well.

It would make her life easier, if nothing else.

"Jane."

At the sound of his voice, her fingers automatically tightened around the neck of the bottle. Her thumb traced the beveled edge of the opening, felt the moisture leftover from the last bit of contact with her mouth. In one smooth motion, she raised the container and let the last few drops of vodka slide down her throat and burn through her body. There wasn't much burning left to be felt, though; not when the first few swallows had so effectively cauterized the ends of her nerves.

"Jane."

He hadn't come any closer, which was fine by her because all she really wanted right then was to be alone. That's why she was laying on the beach in the middle of the dreary night.

A drop of rain landed on her forehead; then, a few more on her arms and legs. The raindrops were like tears, the way they slid across her skin to the sand below. They were salty like tears; they left moist tracks in their wake like tears. But they weren't tears… at least not Jane's. She wasn't going to cry, refused to cry. No, her tears were held back, scorched away in the fire of the vodka.

"Jane."

Loki rarely repeated himself, much less three times. He also rarely followed her when she stormed out of the house after an argument. It might have been the fact that it was a particularly affecting discussion. It might have been the single tear that had escaped before she'd turned away from him. It might have been the bottle of vodka she'd snatched on her way out the door. Whatever, the reason, he'd trailed her to the beach.

"You cannot just ignore this."

Jane knew that, but sometimes ignorance – even drunken ignorance – was bliss. "I need more alcohol if we're to have this conversation."

"How much have you had?"

That was a good question. Jane lifted the bottle, ignoring the way her arm swayed unsteadily with even just its empty weight, and regarded the air inside the container where the vodka had been. "I don't know."

"Then perhaps you don't."

Gravity pulled her arm back to the sand, pieces of grit clinging to the moisture on it. She felt more than heard him approach, could feel the way the sand shifted with his weight, could sense the particles that he charged in the air. Then, there was just the barest brush of his fingertips across hers before the bottle was plucked from her hand.

"Did you drink all of this?" Her fingers closed reflexively in the empty space where the bottle had been. "It is unwise for someone of your stature to consume this much alcohol."

"The bottle wasn't full."

Really, there had been less than half. That was probably a blessing in disguise, though, because Jane had always been a lightweight. With how she felt at the moment, she would have most likely drunk whatever amount the bottle held, despite knowing better, and been emptying the contents of her stomach in an embarrassing display by now. As it was, she could feel the way the world spun in her peripheral vision and knew she was well past the point of being tipsy.

"You cannot drown reality in alcohol."

"If you bring me a few beers, I can try." More vodka was out of the question, but there were still a few bottles of Shiner Bock in the refrigerator. Wasn't that the phrase – beer before liquor, never been sicker?

The sand shifted again as he settled beside her. The breeze playing with the tips of his hair caught her eye and she turned, watched him as he watched the waves. "That will not make the situation any better… or easier."

He was leaving.

Loki was leaving.

It was only supposed to be a visit to see what had transpired in the Realm Eternal in the years after Thor had sent him away. He wanted to see who or what was left of the place he'd grown up. They'd both known him returning to Asgard was always a possibility, but Jane had found it easier to not think about it. Even now, she found it easier to fall back on denial.

"Who said it was hard?"

His head bowed, gaze falling first to the patch of sand in front of his crossed legs, then to the hands clasped in his lap, before landing on her hand that rested on the sand between his knee and her thigh. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out. The night was warm, but his fingers were cool as they traced the veins and tendons on the inside of her wrist.

Jane swallowed hard. She was captivated by the way his face remained smooth and impassive even as she watched the play of emotions in the depths of his eyes. Always so cautious, always so enigmatic… and it wasn't the first time she'd wondered what had transpired in his past to make him that way.

The heel of his hand rested against her wrist as he drew the lines of her palm, following them up into the creases of her fingers. Then his touch slipped to the side, fingers sliding alongside hers before cupping them gently, bringing them into a soft embrace. Loki had never held her hand before; then again, he was so careful in dealing out affection that it was something she'd never really expected.

It was nice, though.

But while it was nice, it was all just… too much.

There was the feeling of his hand in hers, there was the weight of his revelation in her chest, and there was the sensation of the ocean rising to stroke her toes. All three called to her, swam through her thoughts, and Jane no longer knew if she preferred to drown in Loki, vodka, or the sea.

"It _is_ hard, Jane. Even for me."

Those soft words were what finally pulled a second tear from her.

* * *

><p>August<p>

It was early, so early that the sky was only gray with the promise of dawn and dew still clung to the blades of grass. No more than a couple feet separated them as they stood in the backyard facing each other. Jane let loose a soft sigh as she let her eyes rove Loki's form. Dressed in his traditional Asgardian garb, he looked elegantly noble, especially compared to her mismatched pajamas and robe. He deserved a better sendoff than a mortal with bags under her eyes and hair still mussed from sleep.

"Do you have any idea what to expect?"

Both of them already knew that he had no idea what awaited him upon his return, but she couldn't help but ask. Almost five years had passed since Thor had sent him from the warring realm with dark magic. Five years of no contact, no signs… nothing.

Loki's only response was to look at the far horizon.

"How long will you be gone?"

The question was an assumption. He'd never expressly said whether he planned to return to Earth or remain in Asgard. Now that she thought about it, maybe there was a reason he'd skirted the issue. If that were the case and she was to follow along that line of thinking, a more appropriate question would be…

"Will you return?"

If it weren't for his slow blink, he could have been a statue, but finally, he turned. A slight breeze moved through the area, making the leaves of the nearby cottonwood tree mimic falling rain. It played with the length of the emerald cape that extended from Loki's shoulders and a lock of Jane's hair, settling it across her face. He followed the movement of her hand as she ran it through her hair to pull the wayward strands back into place before meeting her gaze.

"Do you always ask so many questions?"

His eyes didn't narrow in annoyance. There was no sneering curl to his lip. No frown pulled at his brows. It was completely unlike the first time he'd asked that question. This time, there was nothing but a wry smile that only seemed to enhance his melancholy countenance.

"Do…" She fought the lump that lodged in her throat at the familiar banter. "Do you always return a question with a question?" And a breathy exhale – she couldn't quite form it into a chuckle or laugh – fell from her lips.

He'd been so intimidating back then, so coldly aloof. It was strange to think how far he'd come, how far _they'd_ come. Still, even now, he wasn't prone to overt displays of affection. But that was fine with her. It was the little things – the touch of his hand to her lower back, the press of his forehead against hers, the gleam in his eyes whenever he smiled – that spoke louder than words. The attention was in the details.

With the weight of the situation, her eyes lowered, focusing instead on the hem of her robe that was darkened with dew. She heard the way the grass folded beneath his steps, watched as his boots came into view. Suddenly nervous, she toyed with a stray thread that dangled from one of her sleeves, steadily unravelling it.

The almost imperceptible twitch of his fingers snagged her attention, and she watched as he caught her hand that was worrying the thread, held it while he moved forward two steps until his body consumed her sight. An involuntary shiver skittered through her when his other hand brushed against her cheekbone, tucked a lock of hair behind her, and cupped her neck, thumb rubbing along the line of her jaw.

"Will you think of me?"

It was not something she'd meant to ask. Questions such as those were better kept hidden in the recesses of her consciousness. Still, while the rational part of her mind that tried to protect her fragile heart insisted not to get her hopes up, another part of her mind whispered that he might…

It had been late last night when she'd felt him stir, felt the bed dip as he rolled to mold himself to her back and wrap his arm around her waist. She'd felt the tip of his nose against her hair, felt him push it aside as he pressed his face to the junction where neck met shoulder. She'd felt him inhale, felt the slightest touch of his lips on her skin.

Jane wanted – _needed_ – to believe he would think of her.

His thumb pressed to the underside of her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. She tried to read him as he always read her, but the dim light made it hard, not that it was ever truly easy to read him if he didn't wish it. Still, there was just a trace – a flicker in the depths of his eyes – of something akin to sadness.

"I will return to you."

Out of four questions, he only answered one. Figured. And of course it would be a near mirror response of one she'd received so long ago.

"I've heard that before."

Instead of being annoyed at her dismissal of the words or frowning at the reference to Thor, he merely released her hand and brought both of his to cup her face. He studied her for a moment, eyes shifting between hers before he closed them and touched his forehead to hers.

She could sense the warmth of him even through the layers of clothing that separated them. She could smell the raw scent of him, the exotic combination of leather and cedar and magic. And when his lips met hers in a lingering caress, she could taste all the things that made him… him.

He pulled away just enough to look her in the eye, just enough to insist…

"I _will_ return to you."

Then, his hands dropped from her face and he stepped back. She swayed towards him but remained steadfast, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. There was no telling whether or not he would truly be able to return; who knew what would happen once he reached Asgard. But he'd given her a promise, and that was something she could return.

"I'll be waiting." She offered her own promise and watched as he gave a returning nod.

There was an inhale, a rush of air filling her lungs, and then…

Loki stepped back into nothingness.

Jane watched him disappear.

* * *

><p>December<p>

It was difficult to wait the first time.

It was even more difficult to wait the second time around.

Hours turned into days that bled into weeks that stretched into months. And it was never exactly easy, but it got easier. She tried not to focus on thoughts of him, distracted herself as best she could, but there were echoes of him throughout the house – the mug she'd bought for him that waited beside the coffee pot, the way the cat had taken up residence in what used to be his spot on the couch, the cold expanse of the bed where he used to lay – that were constant reminders of the presence that had been there but was now gone.

Denial was her crutch for a while. She used it to cope, convincing herself that perhaps her life was better this way. Easier. Simpler. Maybe his life was better apart from her as well… because what place did a god have among mortals? But then she'd dream of him, wake up in the morning with his words – _I will return to you_ – and her promise – _I'll be waiting_ – still floating in her mind and realize that denial was a futile endeavor.

Because, in the end, her thoughts couldn't move an inch without settling on some piece of him, and it was impossible to keep herself from constantly falling into the memory of him.

He was up there… in there… out there… somewhere.

Not in her realm, but another; a place that was connected, but still so far away.

She experienced the worst of it after Christmas. It had always been amusing how he'd annually remind her of the holiday's uselessness only to participate in its festivities. She'd never called him out on it, though; it had been enough to catch an occasional glimpse of the tiny smiles he attempted to hide.

So when Loki's useless holiday came and went without any of those moments, she felt the sting of his absence as keenly as a knife's edge. With the threat of tears in her eyes, she tore from the house into the yard, the door swinging wildly on its hinges behind her. Jane stood alone in the night and shouted to the heavens at the top of her lungs, and the way the stars flickered when the sky swallowed his name was almost beautiful. It was funny, in an ironic sort of way, to think how she'd once waited for Thor as she now waited for Loki.

But even though her heart protested at times like those, she knew she would wait.

* * *

><p>February<p>

There was a frigid bite to the air, courtesy of the arctic front that had blown through a couple nights before. During those first days, Washington had been subject to a nasty combination of freezing temperatures, gusting winds, and plenty of snow and ice. Jane had spent most of that time curled up under her favorite blanket watching old reruns and sipping hot chocolate. Today, however, had revealed itself to be quite the hospitable day. It was still cold, but the harsh winds and rain had blown through and left clear, bright skies in their wake.

The sunshine had done wonders to break the lull the storm had caused; it felt good to get back into a sense of regularity. She'd ventured out to buy groceries in the morning, worked on a new bit of research through the afternoon, and then trekked to the beach in the evening, arms laden with wood, blankets, and a thermos of hot tea to watch the sunset.

In short, it was beautiful.

The sun dipped beneath the horizon, shooting orange and pink rays of light through the clear sky to welcome the rising moon, and the silvery globe caught the radiance of it in its craters. She didn't blink for the longest time, caught up in the bursts and patterns of light that ruptured before her.

With the knowledge of other worlds and creatures and gods, Jane no longer knew what to believe of the universe. Was it created by some deity? Did it result from an explosion of matter that was ever expanding? However it had come into being, her realm and its creations and displays were undoubtedly spectacular.

"Jane Foster."

She blinked.

Her heart thumped strangely, _profoundly_, in her chest.

She blinked again.

There was no mistaking that voice.

The blankets were thrown aside, and she almost spilled the last remains of the tea all over her pants as she scrambled to her feet. And there he was, standing about ten yards down the beach like he'd never even left, the last rays of the sun painting the sky behind him so brightly that it shadowed him. But shadows or no, Jane could pick out every detail. She drank in the sight of him. Towering height, lean frame, alabaster skin, midnight hair, Asgardian clothes… he looked exactly as she remembered. Her chest swelled with a shaky inhale, then caved with a shuddering exhale.

"Loki."

And she wasn't quite sure which of them moved – had she run to him or had he jumped through space to her? – but then her face was buried in the supple leather of his tunic and her arms were wrapped firmly around his waist while his own hands held her to him. Her blood was singing, its rushing song in her ears drowning out both the crackling fire and the roaring ocean.

"I waited… I waited for you, but I… you were gone for so long…I didn't know what to think." Jane hadn't been able to fully understand the weight of what she held inside during the time he was gone; not until he was back. Now it felt like her heart was going to burst from her chest. Six months was too damn long. "I can't believe you came back."

"You doubted I would?" At her silence, she felt his head move slightly against her hair, tilting down until his voice was closer to her ear. "You humans can be so distrusting…"

She issued a breathy chuckle. "Well, you _are_ the God of Lies."

It felt like there was a disconnect somewhere within her because she was unable to think and feel at the same time. She was too aware of him to be concerned with much else. Later, though, she would look back and think how incredibly romantic it was for him to have returned to her on a beach at sunset and wonder if he'd planned it that way.

But then he pulled away from her, creating just enough space between them to meet her eyes.

"Not to you, Jane. Never to you."

And when he finally caught her lips in a soft kiss, it felt like coming home.

* * *

><p>March<p>

She watched as Loki moved his pieces strategically around the board to beat her at yet another game of chess. They'd played it quite a bit since his return; however, he was as stubborn as ever, refusing to admit that he'd missed the 'tactical Midgardian pastime.'

"Can I ask you a question?"

He helped her rearrange the pieces back into their starting positions. "You always do."

"What took you so long to come back?"

His hands faltered, dropping a bishop in an uncharacteristic fumble, as his eyes flickered to hers. They'd both skirted the issue – Jane because she was just glad to have him back in her life and Loki because that was just the way he was. He never had been very forthright with information.

"There were… complications."

She watched his eyes grow distant, focused on something she couldn't see. "Is Asgard…?" Jane couldn't bring herself to finish the question, as if voicing her concerns over the realm's state might make them true.

"The Realm Eternal remains, but it is only a shell of its former glory." Lowering her hands to her lap, she waited for him to continue. "The Asgardians succeeded in driving back the frost giants to Jotunheim and reclaiming Asgard for themselves. I was… surprised given the fact that the All-Father and Thor were no longer there to lead the armies."

Brutal honesty from the God of Lies.

"They restored peace and balance to the realms, but war had torn apart the land and the city." Absentmindedly, he stroked the cat resting on his lap, eyes following the progress of his hand. "I stayed to aid in its recovery."

"How?"

"Magic."

It was like coming full circle. Loki, the fallen Prince of Asgard, had used his magic to help rebuild a city that had distrusted, shunned, and hated him for so many years. Jane felt her heart swell and had to work hard to keep away the smile that pulled at her mouth, knowing it would only make him uncomfortable. Still…

"Yes, I think Thor would be very proud of you." And ignoring his wide-eyed expression, she moved one of her pawns forward two spaces before glancing up at him. "Your move."

* * *

><p>May<p>

"I brought it back for you. It is yours, if you wish."

She skeptically inspected the item Loki was offering her. "What is it?"

"One of Idunn's golden apples."

The fruit only vaguely resembled an apple. It was small, more like the size of a plum, and lighter in color than a typical apple, and when she held it in her hand, it felt warmer than the air in her living room warranted. But the strangest thing about it was the way it literally glowed at her touch, giving off its own light source.

"What's it doing?" With the way it was reacting, she wasn't sure whether to hand it back to Loki or keep hold of it. "Why's it glowing?"

"It is responding to the fact that you are mortal."

The light cast faint shadows in the hollow spaces under his eyes that she was sure were mirrored on her own face. "What does it do?"

"It will extend your life to that of an Æsir." At her blank look, he clarified. "A god."

She glanced down at the apple, attempting to gather her thoughts. "So you're saying if I eat this, I'll be a god?"

The conversation was very rapidly progressing past normal. Then again, what conversation with an ancient God of Mischief could ever be considered normal? Oh well… normalcy was overrated. It was something she'd given up on about four or five years ago.

He issued a patient sigh. "You must _earn_ the title of a god, Jane."

She frowned at his long-suffering expression. How was she supposed to know all the details about gods and titles and their bizarre, glowing fruit? It wasn't like Norse Mythology 101 had been a prerequisite for any of her astrophysics courses. "Loki…" Looking down at the gleaming apple in her hand, she regarded its preternatural warmth and light. "If I eat this, will I live as long as you?"

Slowly, he dipped his head in agreement. With the way his lips tightened into a thin line, he looked almost nervous. "Be warned, though; there is no turning back. Should you accept this… you will never be rid of me."

Which, all in all, didn't seem so bad.

They were different in so many ways… but at the same time, so very similar. And they fit together, as peculiar as it seemed at times. When she was in one of the darkest times of her life – running from the memory of three days and a promise – he'd appeared and kept her from burning up in her despair. And at the same time, she'd like to think that the fire that burned within her had helped to thaw the cold pain of his past.

People always said opposites attract… perhaps there was some grain of truth to that.

The two of them really were like fire and ice. Flame versus water. They balanced each other out, smoothing away the sharp edges. They had been reborn in each others' eyes. And maybe that was what love was – the taste of rebirth over and over again, like the sun when it rises in fire from the sea.

So with a trace of the apple's juice still on her tongue – the spicy, all-consuming flavors of life and time and thousands of other things unknown – Jane simply smiled at Loki.

"Good."

* * *

><p>June<p>

Jane leaned on the railing of the balcony. Her eyes roamed across the woods, the fields, and the far glimpse she had of the sea, taking in the familiar sights and memorizing the details of them. Loki had been working tirelessly in the past few months on repairing bridges between the other realms and had now restored enough of them to allow inter-dimensional travel for everyone once more.

Which was why tonight was their last night here.

Tomorrow Jane would finally get to travel among the stars. He wouldn't tell her where he planned to take her first, but she knew wherever it was, it would be wonderful. Maybe they'd go to Alfheim first… or Vanaheim. Or maybe he'd show her the newly-restored Realm Eternal itself before anything else.

"Do you ever wonder how we got to this point?"

In the edges of her sight, she saw how Loki turned to look at her, the moonlight enhancing the way his brows bunched in a silent question, dark lines against his pale skin. A quick returning glance confirmed his confusion.

"I mean, it all started when Thor was banished here. There were just three days before he was gone. And then you showed up years later and… all those moments… everything between us… and now we'll both live for thousands of… it's just…" Jane trailed off, unsure of how to translate emotions she felt so strongly into words that could never come close. "Sometimes I think it must have been chance, but other times I wonder if we were just lucky."

Still mulling over the lack of proper descriptive words, she felt the touch of his hand against her shoulder as he turned her to face him. Her eyes drifted up to the heavens – seeking something she couldn't quite explain – before lowering back to his.

"How did we get here, Loki? Was it an accident? Was it nothing more than a fluke?"

What were the odds of her meeting the God of Thunder all those years ago? What were the odds of his brother choosing to stay with her after being stranded on Earth? How could she have ever imagined her life to turn out the way it had? It was impossible, inconceivable, unthinkable.

And perfect.

"Fate, Jane."

And the familiar stroke of his fingers across her cheek brought a smile to her face almost as much as the contented expression in his eyes.

"It was fate."

_fin._


End file.
